


In Memoriam

by Himmelreich



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, aldnoah.shipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Aldnoah.Shipweek challenge on tumblr. A collection of seven drabble-ish one-shots revolving around the relationship of the three protagonists. <strike>More of a relationship study than truly shippy, probably.</strike></p><p><i>Day 1: First Meeting:</i> Slaine & Asseylum<br/><i>Day 2: Relationship:</i> Slaine & Asseylum & Inaho<br/><i>Day 3: Smile:</i> Slaine & Asseylum & Inaho<br/><i>Day 4: Scenery:</i> Inaho & Asseylum<br/><i>Day 5: Suffering:</i> Slaine & Asseylum<br/><i>Day 6: Gratitude:</i> Inaho & Asseylum<br/><i>Day 7: Favourite Moment:</i> Slaine & Inaho</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ab initio (from the beginning)

**Author's Note:**

> _DAY 1: First Meeting:_ Slaine  & Asseylum

He grew up having his father tell him fate did not exist.  
He grew up having his father tell him that, from a scientist‘s point of view, things happened by coincidence only, and by the chaotic will of the universe alone.  
He grew up not understanding a word of it , but nevertheless trusting in these words, because if anyone knew about the truth of the universe, it must have been his father.  
He grew up wishing to become just like him.

She grew up having her grandfather tell her they were the chosen ones of Aldnoah and destiny itself.  
She grew up having her grandfather tell her that, no matter what had happened during Heaven‘s Fall, she would be protected by the ancient power of the universe itself for her entire life.  
She grew up believing completely in this power to help her find the right path to take, even in adversity, and become a ruler as great and wise as her grandfather.  
She grew up never once doubting anything.

He had crashed through the roof of the eerily vast chambers of the Princess‘ wing of the castle entirely by chance.  
He had managed to survive the crash and start freeing himself by pure luck and the skills he had been taught by his father.  
He had been found by her just in the nick of time for her to start with the crude, yet effective process of removing the liquid breath from his lungs by mere coincidence.  
He had been saved by her, and there was no deeper meaning to it.

She had seen the escape pod and immediately known that it had been guided to her rooms for a reason.  
She had caught a glimpse only of the boy‘s strangely glassy eyes and immediately known that this was a fated encounter.  
She had held his face in her hands just as naturally as his entire life, and the thought of not being able to rescue him had not even crossed her mind once, because her faith in her way was absolute.  
She had not hesitated in saving him even for a heartbeat.

He was repeatedly told by everyone he met in the Vers Empire that he must have had an unbecoming amount of sheer dumb luck for a Terran.  
He was repeatedly informed of how even this mere coincidence of him being saved by Her Highness herself went to show his impudent nature.  
He was repeatedly still in earshot when they said what an unfortunate fact it was that he had achieved the seemingly impossible feat against the odds given and not crashed and burned somewhere in the vast red deserts.  
He had wondered why it suddenly hurt so much to hear the truth he had been brought up to believe in from someone else‘s mouth.

She had insisted on him keeping her company and tell her everything about Earth and himself, and himself and Earth.  
She had treated him as her close friend from the very beginning on, because it was obvious to her that they had been destined to meet and be together.  
She had been at a loss as to why he seemingly felt the need to repeatedly thank her for saving him, because to her, it was evident that it had been the most natural thing to do.  
She had never even once regretted their first encounter.

_“Say, Slaine, do people on Earth believe in fate?“_  
 _„Some do, Princess, others don‘t.“_  
 _„What do these people believe in, then?“_  
 _„That everything just happens by chance, that there is nothing bigger and more profound controlling their lives.“_  
 _„I see... say, do you believe in fate, Slaine?“_

_„I do, Princess.“_


	2. a caelo ad terminos terrae (from the sky to the ends of earth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 2: Relationship:_ Slaine  & Asseylum & Inaho
> 
> ((A/N: This chapter's title is the only one that is not a set Latin phrase, so to say. It's a mixture of the two individual phrases "a caelo usque ad centrum" and "a flumine usque ad terminos terrae". I passed my Latin basic studies with a C years ago so please don't throw Latin dictionaries at me for messing around with the language carelessly like that, aah))

**_Vassal & Princess_ **

„Are you sure you don‘t mind? I mean, I could understand if you were bored of me doing nothing but asking you questions all day, so please do tell me to stop if it gets too much, yes? Promise me at least that!“  
She says it with earnest, big eyes, hands clenched into fists in the tresses of her hair to force them still, even though he can see that behind her facade of this very mature and considerate request she is as curious and brimming with questions about the things she wants to know and learn to understand as always. He feels himself flush at her intense stare and brings up his hands as if to shield himself from her focussed attention.  
„N-no, it‘s really my pleasure, Princess, as long as it‘s in my ability to answer your questions, please do not hold back.“  
„Really?!“  
She jumps a step closer at this reply, excitement no longer held back, casually ignoring her handmaiden pull a frown at this undignified behaviour.  
„Really“, he assures her, unable to suppress a smile himself, her earnest and pure enthusiasm infecting him instantly.  
„Aah, because I had so many questions left after our last meeting! For example, were unicorns a real kind of animal that got extinct or were they just a fairy tale creature humans made up? And what about dinosaurs? And how come dolphins don‘t drown? And, aah, the type of bird you were talking about, what was the name again...“  
The questions keep on spilling from her lips like a waterfall, and he has trouble replying to them fast enough before she dives deeper, asking for more detail, for the same word in other languages, for names and locations of places she has only a vague idea of.  
Together they try to reconstruct an entire planet in a small room in the middle of nothingness and space, by her passion and his words alone, and he can feel it becoming tangible, as if all it would take to make it real was for them to stretch out their hands and grasp it.

The illusion shatters the moment the door slides open and the Count enters, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly at the situation before him, before announcing with a small courtesy that His Majesty wishes to speak his granddaughter about her planned goodwill mission and that Her Highness was to find herself in the Communication Chamber as soon as possible. She bids him goodbye with a dazzling smile.  
„I‘m looking forward to tomorrow‘s session, Slaine! You need to tell me more about these festivals you mentioned, it sounded incredible!“  
With that, the Count ushers her out of the room gently but firmly. On the threshold, he turns his head back to shoot Slaine an icy glare.  
„Whatever Her Highness might think of you as is none of my concern, but _you_ , make sure you don‘t forget your place, Slaine Troyard. Here, you are nothing more than a lowly servant to Her Majesty, always remember that.“  
Slaine bows deep, the sight of the floor a welcome relief from the Counts terrifying expression of disdain and thinly veiled hatred that he can still feel tickling down his skin even without looking.  
„Yes, my Lord.“

He knows his place as the Princess‘ servant. And he couldn‘t be happier about it.

* * *

 

**_Confidant & ~~Princess~~ Fugitive_ **

Asseylum can‘t help but surreptitiously, or at least so she hopes, steal glances at the boy currently caught in a conversation with one of his friends, which seemed to persist mainly of the other boy ranting at him, with minimal responses on his part. She is caught on her third try, but his face gives nothing away as to if he is bothered by it, he simply turns his focus back on his friend. He is hard to read, that boy - not at all like Slaine, who was always an open book to her when it came to his emotions, or the Counts and Knights which were bound by the Vers code of honour and therefore understandable in their actions to her. Inaho-san, however, is a different case.  
By now she had seen that he was a brilliant person, able to deduce even the most complex data from the tiniest details. He had been the worst person to meet in her disguise and to take down in an attempt to extract information out of him. Even if he had not been this brilliant, even an average person would probably have noticed something was amiss about a pair of young girls alone in the middle of a war zone, willing to attack by-passers and in possession of confidential intel about the assassination attempt on the Versian princess. But he had not breathed a word of it to his comrades back then, and had simply added them to the list of civilians to be evacuated, leaving everyone to mistake them for random tourists.

Seeing him know, Asseylum is fairly confident that he must have suspected her identity from the very beginning - not that the amount, or rather complete lack of surprise in the moment she had dropped her hologram camouflage had been a good indicator to guess at that, but it was hard to believe that he could have been ignorant of that fact.  
Yet, he was still keeping on to her secret, in order to protect her, as he said.

(„The people are under stress after the Orbital Knight‘s attack on Earth, and people under stress can‘t be reasoned with logically, they tend to be driven by irrational emotions and sentiments. If they learn of your identity, who knows what might happen. As long as we haven‘t reached the HQ, I will keep your secret safe with me.“)

She can‘t figure out what makes him promise that kind of thing to a member of the enemy. Yet, she is entirely sure that she can trust this boy with her life.

* * *

 

**_Knight & Princess_ **

Slaine had never wanted to kill anyone, yet at the same time he had wished for everything to cease to exist the very second he had heard he news of the Princess having been assassinated by his own kin. There had been no purpose in his life - in his position, even a career in the military would always be tied to the lowest ranks because of his heritage, and what was there to gain from a life of serving people who hated you and you didn‘t care about - apart from her. If he was useful to her, that was enough for him, and that was all he ever wanted to be. And at that time, it had seemed as if even this small bit of happiness had been torn from him.

Now, as he sees her on the ruins of the bridge, her white gown reflecting the sunlight so brightly it almost hurts to watch, the relief and joy is almost painfully intense. She had survived, she is alive, she is almost in his grasp, and with the power of the Orbital Knights, it should be a matter of hours before she could be freed from her Terran captors. He feels his chance coming, because it was Sir Trilliam and him who had found out about this first, and they were in Count Cruhteo‘s territory, still, it was his chance to beg the Count, on his knees for all he cared, to let him join the battle to free her, to regain that purpose in life he yearned for with all his being.

It‘s only after pulling of the trigger no longer fires bullets but only echoes flatly, signalling nothing more but the empty clip, that he realises he had just killed one of the Knights he was hoping to protect and rescue the Princess. Everything is upside down and wrong, those who are supposed to save her actually wish to kill her, and those who allegedly had killed her were the ones doing the protecting.

(„Where is Sir Trilliam?“  
„He was caught in the meteor bombardment, my Lord.“)

He is going to become the Knight in the traitor‘s stead, then, the one that will save the Princess, no matter what the cost. And he won‘t shy back from staining his hands with the blood of a hundred soldiers of either side if he has to.

* * *

 

**_Protector & Princess_ **

Growing up in the Vers Empire had always meant being told that there was no technology on Earth that rivalled the Aldnoah Drive, and that basically one single of their Kataphraktoi would be enough to wipe out the Terran forces in an instant. Yet, over the course of the past few days, she had seen Inaho-san more or less singlehandedly orchestrate the utter defeat of three of her homeland‘s Kataphraktoi and not even bat an eyelash at his success, either, as if it hadn‘t been life or death battles won by the skin of his teeth, but instead nothing more than mildly challenging sparring matches. Instead of celebrating his victories or boasting the fact that even the ship‘s captain will more or less comply to any of his plans as the young tactician genius, he still seems unsatisfied each time, because victories aside, they lose men on their side in every fight.

Asseylum knows by now that Inaho-san isn‘t the type of person to show emotions openly, but with him being around her so much, she notices: the slightly annoyed narrowing of his eyes if something doesn‘t run as smoothly as he has planned it out in his mind, the way his facial expression softens when he is with his close friends or his sister, the way he suppresses every movement of muscle in his face when he is making fun of someone - by now she suspects it‘s partly because it lets him get away with the most daring talking-back to his superiors, for some part, at least - and the way he looks at her sometimes, curious and just a bit cautious.

He has kept his promise not to tell anyone about her until she revealed herself to the captain, and his calls seem to be on point each time. She has no doubts about him protecting her until the end of their journey.

* * *

 

**_Martyr & Princess_ **

There is a physical limit to the amount of pain a human body can take before it gives in to unconsciousness, and Slaine prays that he may reach it quickly. Each blow, provocation and humiliation until then he can bear knowing just this one thing: that he would never betray the Princess. No matter what was going to happen and what had already happened, he would never betray her and leave her to her enemies. There is no way for him to escape and come to her rescue anymore, he had lost the chance the moment he had made the fateful decision of trusting the Terran Kataphrakt and its pilot, and now his fight would end here. Count Cruhteo had always despised him, and he has no illusions about what fate awaits him at the hands of the Count, and in some ways, it would be a relief. He had failed to live up to the role of the Knight in shining armour he had hoped to become, saving the Princess from the different parties playing with her powers and abusing her compassion to their advantage, and without her, there is no reason for him to go on, anyway. Whether the Count knows of the conspiracy or not hardly makes any difference now, because this is where his crusade will end, not because of outer circumstances, but because he had made a grievous error of judgement.

The moment he had decided to go into battle for her sake, he had sworn that nothing would hold him back, no matter if it was killing or hurting others, no matter if his opponents were armed or not, no matter if it was Terrans or members of the Vers Empire, and that he would not care what happened to himself so far as only she was safe. She is alive, he knows that much at least, and on board a battleship able to take out even the traitors that will come for her head. Even if he had failed as a Knight, she is still a Princess with Aldnoah‘s power and general fighting skills that are not much short of his. She would probably be able to survive without him.

He, however, would never be able to live without her. And the only thing he selfishly regrets the moment before everything mercifully fades to black is that the Princess might never learn that for her, he would gladly have taken any bullet.

* * *

 

**_Saviour & Princess_ **

She remembers the way she had felt after saving a life, back when she had met Slaine for the first time, and wonders if Inaho-san feels even just a little bit like it, somewhere beneath that layer of stoicism. That pride and joy of having been able to save some, to see them walking about and being able to live on, experience more happiness and make more memories, it was one of the most beautiful feelings imaginable. But as usual, it‘s hard to tell with him. When she tries to ask about it, hoping to learn to understand him more, his answers seem even more utilitarian and sober than usual, as he assures her that he saved her because the United Forces of Earth still need her as leverage to end this war, as the one to power the Deucalion, and that he only keeps her safe to ensure the safety of his friends and family. The way he says it seems almost tailored to hurt her, as if he is testing out how much she is willing to take. But she is not as naive as he might think, she had lived on a planet formed by feudal warfare and knows that in order to protect your clan and family, you have to be prepared to do everything in your might, even if it is a dirty move, or else you risk losing to a rival in the blink of an eye. This kind of thinking doesn‘t make Inaho-san a bad person in her eyes, because he is still the one who saved her, multiple times, risking his own life for hers, and the one who kept her secret and had been willing to stand as a shield between her and the crew if necessary.

To a degree, she admires his honesty and his disinterest in diplomacy, because in a twisted way these virtues had brought about her dilemma, with her not having been able to understand the true intentions of the Orbital Knights before it was too late. And it is because of the fact that she can wholeheartedly rely on Inaho-san being honest to her no matter what she asks him that she can ask him about the future after the war, him as the only one, maybe.

(„If all of this is over, will we still be friends, Inaho-san?“  
„... yes.“)

Maybe he doesn‘t feel as strong a connection to the person he saved as she did back then, but still, Asseylum is sure that Inaho-san cares, and so does she. She decides in this moment that she would do everything in her might to keep her saviour safe in this war that had blurred all boundaries of allies and enemies she had believed to exist.

* * *

 

**_Traitor & Princess_ **

The gunshots reverberate in his mind as he struggles again and again to understand what unfolds right in front of his eyes, but he fails to make sense of it. He had not been wrong in stopping the one who was to blame for foiling his attempt at saving the Princess on Tanegashima from killing the Count, and he had not been wrong in interfering in their battle, now employed with a Kataphrakt powerful enough to put an end to the fighting, to break this vicious cycle of hatred. He no longer has to point guns at either his fellow soldiers of the Vers Empire nor at his fellow Terran citizens, because he now is fast enough to avoid their shots, fast enough to reach out and catch up to the Princess that had always, ever since that day on the bridge, been just a hand‘s breadth out of of reach, or maybe she had been even before, but now he has Count Cruhteo‘s Kataphrakt, now he is the Knight with the right amount of power at the right spot at the right time, so why isn‘t he able to reach out to her, stop the bullets, take her away, make all fighting in the Landing Castle subside only in order to save her? He had not been wrong, so why is everything turning out wrong, so wrong?

(„Count Saazbaum...?“  
„Well done, Slaine, you saved me.“)

There are eleven bullets in the clip of the standard handgun of the Vers military, and each and everyone he fires feels like he is firing shards of pure hatred, despair and pain carved right out of his chest. He can‘t see if the bullets hit or not from the blur of tears in his eyes, he only hears the sickening noise of tearing flesh as well as the sharp sound of metal ricocheting from metal, but even if every bullet had found the Count‘s heart, it would not be enough.

He had come to save her, and by doing that, unknowingly betrayed her and caused her death. And she had perished right in front of him, and he had not been able to reach out, not even been able to make her know that he was here, and would always be, for her.

* * *

 

**_Friend_ **

(„I‘m right here.“)

Inaho still feels where her warm hand had clutched his numb fingers, and feels her blood on his face as distinctively as if it were acid. She had trusted him with her life, trusted him to get her into the Landing Castle so that she could help save the HQ from annihilation, trusted him to save her again if necessary as he had in the past, to procure another sweeping victory, and she had never even once doubted that he would be able to do it. He had seen it coming, that he would not be able to get out of this alive, because there was only so much he could do, but she had done it, she had managed to shut down the Aldnoah Drive for them, so the battle was won, no matter what might happen to him now, it wouldn‘t matter. But she, she had never been supposed to die, not like this, not here, not as long as he had been around to keep her safe. Because they need her to win this war, because _he_ needs her to win this war, because he -

(„If all of this is over, will we still be friends, Inaho-san?“  
„... yes.“)

\- because he never makes promises that he can‘t keep, and because all of this is far from over, and yet, it is too late for them to change the course of events now. One more miracle, like a Princess surviving a missile attack on her parade, like a Vers Sky Carrier turning against his own, like a battleship made from an enemy Kataphrakt suddenly at their disposal, what would have been one more miracle?

It‘s not the leverage he laments. It‘s the fact that he has lost something that is as important at this moment as his own life.

* * *

 

**_Avenger_ **

He remembers the first time he had pulled the trigger of a gun pointed at a living person with the intent to kill, hands shaking and pulse racing. Now, his body feels motionless and numb as he lowers his arm, the noise of the shot and the young man before him hitting the ground echoing in the empty hall that over the course of a few minutes had turned into a graveyard. And he himself feels as if he had died alongside them.

There is nothing but silence now, but he knows that outside the Landing Castle‘s walls, the war wages on. The Princess could have ended it with a single public appearance, but now that she had died, that he had failed to save her, all hope for this to end in anything but bloody tragedy was lost forever. He feels no gratification from avenging her and killing the Count, leaving him to slowly bleed out at the feet of his own Kataphrakt rather than granting him the coup de grâce the code of honour would have demanded for an Orbital Knight, but the Count was a traitor, and so is he, neither of them should expect anyone to uphold the rules and laws of a system that had plunged them into war. Neither does he feel any personal satisfaction from killing the pilot of the orange Kataphrakt, the one insolent enough to taunt him knowing fully well he was going to die.

In fact, he feels nothing, guilt and regret too overwhelming to let him weep for what he has lost. As he turns to head for Tharsis, he forces himself to forget the things he had wanted to tell her with each step, hoping that at some point, nothing would be left for him to go on.


	3. a posse ad esse (from being able to actually being)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 3: Smile:_ Slaine  & Asseylum & Inaho
> 
> ((A/N: I was busy yesterday, so entries for Day 4 and Day 5 will be uploaded in one go tomorrow.))

I.

Slaine smiles quite often. In her presence, at least. It is never an overly broad smile, nor does ever he grin or laugh out loud. His smiles are kind, a bit nervous and self-conscious, but always honest. They carry over to his soft voice and reach up to his gentle eyes, and even if they disappear as soon as someone else enters the room the two of them are in, she enjoys every millisecond of while they last. She does not know how much he had smiled back before he had arrived on Vers, back before he had lost his home and only remaining family, after all, he had spent eleven years of his life far away where she had no way of asking people who had known him, and she also does not know how much he smiles as soon as she turns her back to him - not because she wants to, but because she has to, regrettably. So she can only hope that he does smile once in a while even with her gone, because to her, his smile is the kind of smile that should never go wasted, the kind that can ease homesickness just by looking at it, and brighten the darkness surrounding the satellite belt just by existing.

She does not know that he smiles only for, and because of her.

II. 

Asseylum herself has a wide variety of smiles. First, there are the ones she has been taught to keep in place during her diplomatic duties as a Princess of Vers, noncommittal and regal - they are important not to go overboard with, because you don‘t want to appear too soft to the ever power hungry Knights, and also because keeping up a fake smile that is just a little bit too broad over a longer span of time is quite painful, really. These types of smiles come easy to her now after many years of practice, and she is able to slip them on her face as you might shrug on a jacket. They are quite practical if you wished to hide your true emotions, she has found, even though doing such a thing goes against her general preference for honesty in everything she does. Then, there are the ones which are honest smiles, reserved for the people she feels actual gratitude or friendship for - when the Count shows his concern for her well-being in his usual stern but truthful manner, when Edelrittuo tries to cheer her up when she feels just a bit lost in this Castle stuck between two worlds, and when, especially when, Slaine tells her of the wonders of his home planet and remains by her side for hours on end. She wishes there would be more opportunities and more people in her life to share these types of smiles with, the ones that are entirely unguarded, an attempt to give back a little bit of what these people are to her.

When she properly laughs for the first time in what feels like forever, completely overwhelmed and exhilarated by the beauty of the sea and the sky and the magnificent creatures flying over her head seemingly weightless, it is entirely for herself, and she thinks she could burst from happiness in this very moment.

III.

Inaho never smiles. At least, that is what his friends repeatedly tell her, that he is the type of person that just generally does not smile, and that she should not take it personally when he does not return her friendly expression in kind, because he means nothing by it. Still, it is hard for her to understand - of course there were the high-ranking members of the Vers military she had been surrounded by since birth who almost constantly put on an air of professionalism and lack of any emotion safe for exaggerated compliance, but seeing this kind of stoicism in a boy her age is confusing to her nonetheless. The only one she can really compare him to from before coming to Earth is Slaine, and they are so entirely different it seems hard to believe they have anything in common, and be it their age only. But even when compared to Inaho‘s other friends he seems unusually cold and contained at first glance, she learns that this is not true at all. As over time she gets to know him better with each passing day, she starts to see the way he looks at the people he cares for, often when they are not noticing, and the way that even if on first glance his expressions seems perfectly blank, there are instances he drops his guard just for a passing moment and she can see annoyance, sorrow, satisfaction, curiosity, fondness, and humour clearly mirrored on his face, if ever so slightly, but it is gone so fast again that it seems almost like an illusion once it happened. Still, she cannot help but think it is a shame that he does not smile properly, because she is sure of the fact that no matter what he says, he is a kind person, and his smile would probably be just as kind and gentle as he does not admit to being.

She does not live to see the first, and last true smile he gives to her.


	4. a mari usque ad mare (from sea to sea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 4: Scenery:_ Inaho  & Asseylum

When he catches sight of her sitting by the edge of the port deck in the wing mirror by coincidence, it is a welcome distraction from his current thoughts - after yesterday‘s narrow escape, idly sitting around contemplating what used to be hypothetical knowledge only two days ago is the sole thing he can do, and it is not by far a pleasant feeling. She is on her own for once, without the other girl that usually is at her side constantly, staring out at the seemingly endless sea slowly drifting by as the ship heads for their hopefully safe haven. In literature class at school, they had discussed the image of someone alone lost at sea to be one of the most popular and universally understandable symbols for loneliness and isolation, and he wonders if it is even more true for her, with the sea not even belonging to her home planet millions of kilometres away, and even though strictly speaking she is not alone, to her best knowledge everyone on this ship has more than enough reason to wish for her death. Not quite everyone, really, but if that is any comfort knowing, he doubts.

„So this is where you were, Inaho-san!“  
„Yeah.“  
She greets him with a smile before turning her head again, yet seemingly not minding his intrusion on her apparent withdrawing from the battle preparations and commotion everywhere else on the ship. Maybe she is even glad about the company, he cannot tell. For a moment, they look out at the horizon in agreeable silence only disturbed by the constant rumbling of the engines and the waves below, and the sound of the salty, cold wind ruffling both of their hair, then she suddenly speaks up again, her voice soft and small with awe.  
„It really is beautiful, isn‘t it?“  
He does not have to ask what she is referring to, the way her eyes are shining with wonder makes the answer obvious.  
„Is a blue sky that unusual to you?“  
„Yes.“  
It should not be surprising to him, since he is well aware that due to the atmosphere of Mars consisting of a different composition of gases as well as due to its greater relative distance from the sun than Earth‘s, the sky the Vers Empire looks on of course would look different than this, but the thought of how a person would feel because of it had never really occurred to him before. It is hard to imagine growing up under a sky that is a different colour, he muses, probably impossible even unless you actually experienced it. He is certain there has to be a word for this kind of psychological effect of not being able to picture these things, similar as to while you aware that colours looked different to every single person, you still could never succeed in re-painting your own view of the world, but he does not know it at present. He thinks to himself that he should look it up as soon as everything will no longer have to do with scheming how to take out your enemy before they can do the same, and wonders how far that day might still be away.

„Were you studying?“, she changes the topic, throwing him off that line of thought.  
„I‘m brushing up a little. I‘m not sure how useful it will be, though.“  
„Why is that?“ There is genuine concern and curiosity in both her eyes and voice as she regards him with full attention.  
„Because we don‘t have Aldnoah“, he answers, and can see how her expression instantly saddens, now that he confronted her with the reality of war once more. He wonders if it is hard for her to accept that this is what his mind naturally focusses on at the moment, trying to figure out how to gain advantage on the enemy, how to read their strategies and weaponry, how to most effectively wipe them out, the enemy being her own fellow countrymen. Still, the opportunity he is presented with, that he is the _only_ one presented with, is too valuable to pass it by on basis of possibly hurt feelings alone, so he digs deeper.  
„What is this Aldnoah thing, exactly, anyway?“

She turns her head back to towards the endless ocean and away from his face, yet she answers his question in detail and in a calm and strong voice. He feels a slight pang of guilt, because he is sure she must know that whatever she tells him, he will definitely turn against her own subjects or maybe even her as soon as possible, and yet she still gives him all the information she can. Up until now, he has killed two of the Marsian Knights in front of her eyes already, and while they know for sure that one was a traitor that did not stop at her orders and instead tried to kill her, they do not know about the other one, or any of the remaining Orbital Knights. For all she knows, he could have killed a possible ally of hers earlier, neverminding the fact that he could sell her out to either side at his convenience. She is a very resilient and strong person, he realises at this moment with sudden clarity, given all what she has been through in the past few days and that her entire world and believes must have shattered around her like glass. Yet, she is here, obviously ready to trust him with her life, her knowledge, and, as he learns, her innate power. He does not fully understand what she sees in him that would make him worthy of her good faith.

„And now, those who‘ve once settled the desolate lands of Mars have set their eyes on Earth, the cradle of all humanity, a land blessed with water and air in such abundance that they refract the light to make the sea and sky appear blue.“  
At that, he automatically chimes in.  
„That isn‘t true.“  
She gives a small sound of surprise and turns back to face him, as he observes from the corner of his eyes while going through his physics textbook on his PDA, looking for the exact page.  
„The blue of the sky is not caused by diffraction, but through the effects of Rayleigh Scattering.“  
The information comes to him automatically, and yet he is not exactly sure as to why he is telling her this. It had been an impulse he had given in to, perhaps a reaction to her voice sounding more and more strained with unhappiness as she talked about how there was no amicable bond between humanity‘s origins and the Vers Empire anymore, wishing to change the topic to something he is more comfortable with than having to deal with someone in emotional distress. Distraction was a valid psychological technique in combat, that he knew, and his sister had told him to trust his intuition in times of crisis, so maybe it was that.  
The Princess jumps to her feet, looking positively agitated.  
„But Slaine said it was caused by light diffraction-“  
„The blue of the sky is caused by Rayleigh Scattering, the white of the clouds is caused by Mie Scattering. That person was mistaken.“

Inaho notes that she does not elaborate on who exactly that Slaine person is, as if he is already supposed to know for some reason. He wonders if she might actually think that, on some subconscious level, the same way that sometimes Okisuke would enthusiastically reminiscence some past event or the other, trying to get Calm and Inaho to join in, and had to be reminded time and time again that they had in fact not attended Middle School together before and only known each other for this one year of High School. Every time this had happened, he had laughed, embarrassedly rubbed his neck and said that „as soon as you become good friends with someone, it‘s really hard to imagine there was a time you weren‘t friends, you know, like, you can‘t really remember the time before meeting them, you think they‘ve always been around and know all the stuff you do“. Calm had been flattered by that every time, assuring that the sentiment of friendship was mutual, and Inaho had been slightly confused. He himself had no trouble sorting out who of his acquaintances had stepped into his life at what exact point in time and keeping track of the resulting shared history they had, but he figured that for people more hung up on emotions than dates, it was probably not as important.  
He wonders if the Princess is the same, a person that as soon as she forms bonds with someone will consider them part of her whole life, no longer distinguishing between past and present. Somehow, the thought is nice.

_(Obviously, he can make his own conclusions about Slaine with the little data he was given - his best guess would be that he used to be some sort of courtier or conversationalist that kept her company on Mars. Probably close to her in age. Most likely an averagely educated individual instead of a proper scholar or teacher. Definitely possessing sketchy knowledge of Earth‘s physics at best. That is about all he can tell so far for certain._

_Going by the distinct pout the Princess is sporting at his casual criticising this person now, however, he can also assume that she seems to really like him._

_He makes a mental note of not mocking Slaine in her presence again.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: I should stop announcing things that I can‘t live up to, shouldn‘t I... Uni work‘s keeping me busy, so chances of me finishing the challenge on time are nil, but I‘ll definitely upload all seven chapters. At some point. Please be patient with me.
> 
> Also, for those interested, the term Inaho was looking for is Qualia.))


	5. a capite ad calcem (from head to heel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 5: Suffering:_ Slaine  & Asseylum

Just like most people, Slaine had quite the number of small scars all over his body, and just like most people, he remembered the story to almost all of them. Different from most people, however, said stories were, without exception, unpleasant memories and not something you would like to tell others about.

First, there were the ones that were normally hidden from curious eyes.  
Beneath his high collared long-sleeved uniform, multiple old scrapes where the skin had regrown shinier, thicker and smoother than before, actual indents on his shins and knees where his keening over had been broken by metal floors, and a number of older small gashes all received during his military training.  
 _(Ironically, his crash landing on Mars as a child had left no physical trace on his body at all once the bruises the security belts had left had faded, but he still remembered her touch as if it had burned permanent marks into his skin.)_  
Beneath his gloves, numerous healed cuts and old, slowly fading scratches from various mishaps at gun handling, the maintenance work on the Sky Carriers, and the knife fighting training he had received as a recruit. The Vers military did not bother with starting out with blunt weapons, he had learned, because according to them, if real weapons were what you were going to face in battle eventually, you should get used to used to the sting of the cut right away, and getting cut he did, often enough.  
 _(Her hands always looked completely smooth and soft, and on the very rare occasions that she reached out to touch his, he was very grateful that she only got to feel the even leather instead of his rough and calloused fingers, only got to see the impeccable white colour instead of the marred skin that lay beneath, and even through this additional layer separating him from her touch, he could still feel it lingering hours later.)_

Then, there were the ones that were not as easy to conceal.  
Above his left eye, a faintly visible remnant of a laceration he had received the third time the Count had struck him down with his cane. Apparently, it had not been his intention to actually break his skin, and he had left him to medical attention instantly, who had patched him up carefully and professionally, yet the scar still stood as a reminder of their imbalance of power and status for the rest of their relationship.  
 _(He considered himself lucky that he did not bruise easily, unlike other people for whom a passing glance seemed to colour their skin purple for days, the swelling and reddish hue the various blows left behind kindly vanished overnight in most cases, and a day of avoiding the Princess to spare her the sorrow and himself the inevitable backlash of her possibly complaining to the Count about his treatment, that he could manage, but he could not even imagine having to avoid her for weeks when she was so close during this short and precious stay at the Count‘s Castle instead of worlds away and out of his reach.)_  
On his bottom lip, a small white scar, the type you especially noticed whenever you smiled or pulled your lips back otherwise, from when he had learned firsthand that during a rough or crash landing, it was important to closely watch your teeth, tongue and lips.  
 _(In one daydreamy moment, once, he had accidentally let his guard down to the extent of wondering for a split second whether the scar would be noticeable to the touch during a kiss, and he had fought the urge to apologise to her for even thinking such a thing for multiple days following.)_

That was then, and now is now.

He now bears an unsettling number of news scars on his body, angry red lines and cuts left behind by equally angry lashes.  
He now knows that blood and gunshot residues, however, come off his hands cleanly, leaving no evidence to the mere human eye.  
He now understands just how high his tolerance for torture and his threshold for pain he is able to put up with really is.  
He now experiences that the wound that cuts the deepest, the feeling that haunts him the longest, the scar that hurts the most, is not from physical damage to his body, is invisible, is bleeding on and on with no signs of healing.  
He now realises that he had not known true suffering until he had lost her.


	6. ab imo pectore (from the bottom of my heart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 6: Gratitude:_ Inaho  & Asseylum 
> 
> ((A/N: More literally, the title would be "from my deepest chest", regarding the meaning, it would be more along the lines of "sincerely".))

Inaho was one of the unfortunate children born in the same year their world had changed forever - its very landscape, the people inhabiting it, and even the sky they looked upon, nothing had remained the same after Heaven‘s Fall. In some ways, however, he thought that this had to be the kinder alternative, because this way at least he retained no personal memory of the time before the moon had shattered and entire countries had been devoured by asteroids and tsunamis, so there was nothing he could miss from personal experience. Of course, they lived in an era where nothing had gone by unrecorded in some form of media, so he had a clear picture and understanding of how things used to be, but if you stepped back and considered the history of Earth itself, even Heaven‘s Fall was just one of many cosmic events to influence the planet, and human empires had flourished and collapsed in a steady rhythm ever since they had started existing. If you tied no sentimentalities to a past you yourself had not experienced, growing up on this new Earth beneath the constant scattered moonlight of the Satellite Belt‘s debris was not too bad, and preferable to the years of constant warfare that had preceded that fateful year just before the turn of the millennia. 

At least, that was his point of view when it came to general living standards, but as his sister had assured him, even him thinking like that in the first place was a product of their circumstances. As long as he could remember, his upbringing had been coined by military terms - basic instructions for emergency situations dating back as early as to pre-school, the first field-trip-esque survival skills training in elementary school, world history and politics in middle school heavily focussing on the Earth-Mars conflict and war, the biweekly actual Kataphrakt piloting training during high school, and of course with an older sister at home that had joined the United Forces, he had found himself helping her with her studies more often than not even in his free time. Maybe all of that was the reason why to him, it had always been easier to describe the world and how he perceived it in these terms - they were unambiguous, rational and clear concepts that did not need further explanation. They were words like _advantage, duty, obligation, weighing of interests_ , and for the most part, he was able to get by just fine by acting with these principles in mind. It was not as if he did not appreciate more emotional concepts, too, occasionally. There were words like _family, camaraderie, friendship, trust_ , reserved for those important to him that he knew he could expect the same sentiment in return without negotiations or responsibilities.

Asseylum Vers Allusia had been born in the same year as him and grown up as the future Empress to a nation established on a foundation of bloodshed and war. Far from being a spoiled and pampered pretty princess as most people had imagined from what little was known about her, she had demonstrated when they had first met that she, too, had been taught self defence and was knowledgeable about the structure and weaponry of the Vers army the same way she had been lectured on etiquette and was well versed in diplomacy and public relations. Obviously, their upbringing would still be vastly different from each other in many regards, yet it was apparent they were both children of a generation formed by a disastrous war, and while she might not have been instructed on how to operate a Kataphrakt, she was standing firm while the battles raged around her, willing to taker her place in his plans, be it as a mere decoy or actively operating the weapons she was given. Maybe it was exactly because all of this behaviour that she still managed to utterly confuse him.

Her situation was extreme and nothing she had ever been prepared for, he knew that much, and he knew that under dire circumstances, people tended to act foolishly or too emotional. She, however seemed to remain perfectly composed, while rewarding him with a kindness he could not make sense of. He had helped her first due to his obligation of evacuating the citizens, and then out of the simple reasoning that keeping the Princess of Vers alive and with them would prove the United Forces‘ innocence regarding the assassination attempt and grant them the necessary leverage to end this war on their terms, if necessary with her becoming their bonafide hostage. He was certain she was aware of this fact, and yet she kept on assuring him of her gratitude for saving her life.

_Gratitude_ was a word that belonged to the more irrational and emotional spectrum, and he could not understand why she seemed so earnest about it. He had had a multitude of reasons for acting as he did, from defending his homeland to avenging his fallen comrades to ultimately only ensuring his own survival, and none of these were anything she should be grateful for, especially not since she seemed perfectly aware of her situation and his overall motives. At some point, he had wondered if it had already crossed over into the territory of actual Stockholm Syndrome, her empathising with her current captors that, while not holding her prisoner in actual restraints, only protected her for their own gains and could kill her at a change of mind any time, because she was at their mercy, but given his overall impression of the Princess‘ iron-clad resolution of bringing this senseless war to a halt at any cost and by any means she could get hold of, he had discarded the notion almost as soon as he had had it. If they were not caused by a psychological coping mechanism or a general lack of awareness of the situation, that left only two other possible reasons for her words: either she was lying or she was being fully and completely serious in this matter. Inaho prided himself on being able to read situations and people fairly well, and as much as he tried to find proof of her possibly saying these things in a futile attempt of getting under his skin or manipulate him, it just seemed absolutely unbelievable even to himself. The Princess was an honest, open and straightforward person in everything she did, and there was no reason to doubt that. In all conscience he could therefore assume that she really did mean these words and feelings the way she expressed them.

When she asked him if they could remain friends after all this senseless killing is over, it was only one more outrageous and honest thing for her to casually tell him. Even if neither of them were to fall in this war, even if they succeeded in establishing a truce between the United Forces and the Vers Empire once again, even then their ways would part forever once this was over. She was going to become the new Empress to a planet far away, and he was going to remain with his friends and family, and with all this new bloodshed that went to prove that in reality, nothing had changed ever since the sky had fallen fifteen years ago, chances of the planets‘ relationship improving were microscopic at best. They might not part as the enemies they should have been upon meeting, but even with everything that had happened, it seemed an impossible thing for them to be, and remain, friends.

Yet, when he answered her, he realised to his own surprise that his immediate reply was fully and entirely honest, the impossibility and audacity of the statement overruled by his true sentiment.

_Yes._


	7. ab hinc (from here on)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _DAY 7: Favourite Moment:_ Slaine  & Inaho
> 
> ((A/N: It would be a blatant lie to deny that their team-up in episode seven was my favourite moment, the aftermath of which I wrote about before, but the final minutes of the first cour make it all the more interesting retrospectively. Additionally, all of Sawano-sensei‘s insert songs do qualify.))

_„there‘s no difference, you and me, so what are we fighting for, what are we fighting for?“_

.

.

.

Fading, it is fading, everything is slowly drifting away, and the more he strains to reach out and grasp it, the more it seems to run through his fingers like quicksilver. His head feels numb and heavy on his shoulders, his thoughts a jumbled mess as his nervous system registers every bit of pain and damage to his body after the multiple impacts and bullets his Kataphrakt took in the fight earlier. The pain is overwhelming and threatening to take over his consciousness completely, and by sheer force of will, he opens his eyes, trying to focus on something, _anything_ , to keep himself awake and alert. Nothing but black and dark grey surrounds him and for a split second he fears he might have gone blind - which is to mean useless for further fights, as he considers his observation skills his one solid point of advantage - and he blinks once, twice, and feels the warm, strangely viscous liquid clouding his vision pooling at the corner of his eyes, more slowly making its way down his forehead still, the wound of origin a dull throbbing pain hardly noticeable among all the others. The damage he has taken is worse than expected, he realises, even though he engaged fully aware that stalling for time against a Martian Kataphrakt as powerful as this one had been suicidal from the beginning. After all, he had barely managed to defeat the ones before, relying on support from his comrades almost every time, on support from his enemies once, and here they had been combined in one, on enemy turf, and he had been on his own without any hope for back-up. Given these odds, it is actually a miracle he had survived at all, more so, gained the upper hand for what he thought to be a close shave victory, with the enemy to his feet at gunpoint and the Princess shutting down the Aldnoah Drive, and then, something, or rather _somebody_ hit him with a force and speed beyond his comprehension, and the world toppled over.

 _„out there who will watch your back? because I don't know if I can stay here.“_

The Orange Kataphrakt, no matter how many times Slaine tried to shake it off his mind, his thoughts kept circling back to it. It, or rather, its _pilot_ had managed to defeat two Knights of Vers, and he knew from personal experience that neither had been a careless or weak fighter. As much as he hated to admit it, that person had protected the Princess in his stead twice so far, for whatever reason. In a war that seemed devoid of any reason at all, where his heartfelt truth was deemed a lie and the loyalty of the Knights to the Royal Family was inversely proportional to the amount of territory they could seize in exchange for a little bloodshed, what did motives even matter in the end? Slaine knew it was way past merely having his back to the wall, it was him against everyone, once more caught between two sides of the conflict, branded a traitor awaiting execution by one, seen as the mortal enemy by the other. Where was he to run to now? Who should he side with? Who had the power to turn the tide, to end the war, to save the Princess from her own people and those of Earth? He might never have felt truly a part of the Vers Empire, and the Counts and soldiers certainly never treated him as one, either, but still, they were the people he was familiar with, those he had thought were understandable in their actions to him, and now in an absurd surge of his hopeful thoughts, he latched onto an entirely unknown person. The Princess had fought alongside them, so they might be willing to accept one more unwilling deserter to the Vers Empire to their ranks. And with his choices being death and the Count‘s hands or holding on to this flicker of hope, this mere possibility, he was more than wiling to take the chance. Whether they might be a genius tactician or just blessed with an absurd amount of sheer dumb luck , whatever had made them able to survive three encounters with Vers Kataphrakts, Slaine was not in the position to be picky, he would take any and every support he could get hold of until he had achieved his goal of saving the Princess, and be it allying with someone as ruthless as the Counts themselves.

_“are you really serious to save her right now?“_

It had merely been a matter of expedience, and one of survival. Inaho was perfectly aware that the overused maxim of „the enemy of my enemy is my friend“ was wishful thinking and its truth value always limited to a short amount of time. History had proven again and again just how fragile these alliances really were, and as soon as the common enemy had been disposed of, it had been back to being enemies again, stabbing the previous partner in the back as soon as possible. The Allied Forces of the last World War had gone back to years of Cold War and then back again to founding the United Forces of Earth when faced with the threat posed by the Vers Empire, a steady rhythm of betrayal and reassurance of assistance. So, being entirely outmatched in this enemy assault, it had not been the time to question the motivations of this one rogue pilot - be it turf wars in between the Counts, a personal grudge held against this certain Orbital Knight, involvement in the entire assassination plot, or something completely different, he could work with the additional fire power and arial support just fine. To his relief and luck, the pilot in question had turned out to be a fast thinker, taking up on his signals instantly with no complains, and quite the unorthodox combatant himself, something which Inaho held in high regard. Yet, at the same time, his unpredictability had made him all the more hard to read, emotional outbursts a stark contrast to his polite and controlled manner of speech, unrefined piloting techniques set against stellar control of his aircraft, verbal hesitation versus the willingness to follow Inaho‘s instructions flawlessly, enemy colours set against unconditional support. There was no way of telling whether he had really been the pilot that had shot down Calm back in Shinawara, but in the end, it made no difference, because no matter what that person would offer as an explanation, Inaho was not willing to take the risk of taking in a spy or traitor, not when the one he had to protect was the Princess, the only one with the power to end the war in favour for Earth. Some things about the pilot he had learned in these few minutes of fighting alongside him, that he was male, young, easy to rile up but constantly polite, bad at keeping emotion out of his voice and appearing cool and collected, but none of that was helping with guessing at his trustworthiness, and Inaho was going to follow Yuki‘s advice and trust his own judgement in this case. It was when they both drew their weapons against each other in the exact same moment that he thought that, maybe, they had been on the same page from the beginning. And yet, the last words of the other pilot before the communication link broke down screamed of honest trust painfully betrayed, absurdly out of place in the middle of a battlefield, leaving a bitter taste on Inaho‘s tongue.

 _“get ready to give your life, willing or not.“_

In the silence that now fills the Aldnoah chamber, isolated from the commotion outside by the thick, high-rising walls, he can hear the erratic beating of his own heart, the laboured breathing of the dying Count, and then, suddenly, the sound of movement from the direction of the damaged, damned Orange Kataphrakt. When he turns to look, it is the first time he sees the other person, a bit blurry with his vision still framed by the tears he has held back through all the suffering and loss so far and that now will not stop flowing as the numb, icy feeling in his chest spreads. With the events of the past few days, he had never had the time or mental idleness to spare to imagine what he could possibly be like, that Tanegashima pilot, and when he had thought about him, it had been the abstract image of the Orange Kataphrakt irrevocably tied to that determining, cold voice, taunting him for being naive enough to think of them as allies. And naive he still is, he thinks, bitter, as he watches the other person stagger forward, hardly able to keep himself upright, and finally keening over and fall. He has nothing of the commandeering air of his voice in person, an unremarkable, small, slender boy his age, hardly looking the part of a ruthless war tactician and excellent shooter, but Slaine knows better, knows that trusting appearances and outstretched hands has brought him nothing but despair. There is blood staining the other‘s uniform, much less colourful and lavish than the ones of Vers, and Slaine cannot tell if it is the boy‘s blood or the Princess‘. He is crawling now, towards her, not even sparing a glance into his direction. He must be aware of his presence, Slaine thinks, he must have heard the shooting, the shouting, the crying, and yet, he does no longer care. The one who had been so cautious and observant when they had met on Tanegashima, the one that had rather shot him than taking any risks, he no longer cares what is happening around him, no longer cares to keep his own life safe. For with the Princess‘ death, there would be no way to take advantage of her any longer, to use her to end the war, and whatever plan he had had in mind for her, it was for naught now. He had dragged her into the middle of the danger zone and paid the price, just as Slaine did for saving the Count from certain death at the hands of Orange, and here they are, two tragic survivors that certainly do not deserve to live. His crawling forward is as pointless as it is infuriating - he had been the last one the Princess has spoken to, the one whose hand she had held in death, and even though he is as guilty of bringing about her death as Slaine or the Count, he is still demanding more, and Slaine cannot stand it. The fury he feels for Orange is different from the one that had taken over his mind just moments before, it is slow, burning, fuelled by thoughts of _if only you listened back then_ and _it did not have to turn out this way_ and _it is your fault_ that dry up the tears and steady his pulse, give him something to hold on to other than deepest grief and despair. It is a calm rage that replaces the shaking as he silently makes his way over to the wreckage and her body, leaving him perfectly composed on the outside. It is only when he verbally announces his presence that the other boy finally turns to look at him, sees and yet does not see him, eyes unfocussed and smeared with blood, a blank stare at first that changes with sudden recognition, and then, he smiles.

_„you are what you do // you are what you fool“_

Inaho is vaguely aware that he should probably be surprised, shocked or downright in panic, yet all he can feel is a distant, morbid sense of acceptance and satisfaction as it is again him looking up to see a gun pointed at him at the hands of Bat, only this time, they are both face to face, no longer protected or obscured by their machinery, and this time, he knows that there is no more ace up his sleeve, no more element of surprise or backup left. He cannot say for sure if he might have recognised the other without him giving away his identity, because his voice sounds so different now, without the static, strangely cold and strained. In the darkness of the hall and with the blood clouding his vision, he can hardly make out any details, the other remaining a pale blur of fair hair and white skin set off against the darkness, but it no longer matters. It is easier to not see the enemy as a distinct individual was what he had been taught, and the warfare with Kataphrakts had made it too easy to heed this advice. He does not need to know if there is a soldier in Vers that might be his age, might have the same interests, aspirations, dreams and fears, a similar family situation and group of friends, he only needs to know that there is a weapon pointed at him, and that this time, too, there would be no warning shots. Inaho does not hold it against the other, really, it was only natural. Quid pro quo, you reap what you sow, and in all fairness, he had tried to kill Bat first, back then when it had been a moment‘s decision of trusting an ally or eliminating a threat, and he does not regret his choice, even now. The gun strapped to his thigh is suddenly almost painfully noticeable to him, and he knows that injured as he is, he is slower than usual, that shooting left-handed comes hard to someone right-handed as him, that he is at any and all disadvantages in this moment, crouching half-blind and beaten to the feet of someone that has more than enough reason and right to kill him, and is only still alive because the other has not yet pulled the trigger. The shot does not even come when Inaho turns his back to him again, as if Bat was waiting for something, and maybe he is. Inaho remembers the short moment he thought that maybe they were that similar, that pragmatic and distrustful, and then he remembers Bat‘s voice before the aircraft hit the waves. It is silent now, as if with the Princess‘ death all the commotion and fighting had moved into a different dimension, a different reality, and Inaho knows that even if he surrendered, lifted up his hands and asked to only be taken prisoner, the other would not do him this favour, because that was what Inaho would do in his position as well. In the end, they were similar after all, Bat‘s unpredictability making up for what he had seemed to lack in Inaho‘s own ruthlessness, maybe. If the outcome was inevitable either way, it might be worth taking the chance, then, if only to save face and grant his opponent the favour of a proper final confrontation. And as he takes a last deep breath, mentally going through the movement of drawing, turning, aiming, shooting, _missing_ that was to follow, he thinks that, perhaps, if this was the end, it was not too bad to die knowing that this certain person‘s blood would not be on his hands.

.

.

.

_„you can be sure I will be back again.“_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((A/N: Songs in order of usage: _nZk, Keep On Keeping On, bre@th//less, bre@th//less, bre@th//less, Keep On Keeping On._  
>  Final comments [here](http://regnumcaelorum.tumblr.com/post/99466210718/in-memoriam-final-a-n-and-parting-words).))


End file.
